Not Good Enough
by firecracker189
Summary: "You don't deserve to even be here with me. I can't do that to you. I'm just going to screw up again, and you'll get caught in the middle of it. I'm worthless, and that's all I'll ever-" "Shut up Sam!" Dean barked, advancing on his little brother. "Don't you ever let me hear you say that again, you understand me?" Hurt! depressed!sammy caring! big brother Dean Oneshot.


Dean stopped short, staring at the hunched figure.

Sam sat, surrounded by empty bottles, sucking down a whiskey as if his life depended on it.

Moving cautiously, Dean shut the door, setting the supplies he'd picked up on the bed.

"Sammy?" He crept closer.

Sam flinched, slopping whiskey down his shirtfront. "No… SSS'ty 'way D'n."

"Sammy, c'mon man, lemme have the bottle. You know you don't hold your liquor well…" Dean tried, reaching for the bottle.

Sam lurched to his feet, spilling yet more whiskey down himself, holding out an arm to distance himself.

"Stay 'way." He whispered again, draining what little amber liquid remained, the bottle hanging limply from his hand.

"Sam?"

" 'M not…" He hung his head.

"Not what Sam?" Dean whispered, moving closer.

" I'm not…" his voice diminished, becoming nearly inaudible. " I'm not strong enough Dean."

" Not—"

"I'm not strong enough. I'm worthless." He looked up, puppy dog eyes misted over, voice driving a stake through Dean's heart.

"No." Dean shook his head firmly. "No, Sammy. You're not worthless, you hear me?"

"Yes," His voice trembled, tears beginning to slide down his cheeks. "I am. I'm no good to you, to any one… I started the apocalypse Dean, I put everyone we've ever saved in danger! I put you in danger! You, Bobby… everyone! Bobby doesn't even want to have anything to do with me anymore because of it! Dean I… I'm just a screw up. All I ever do is mess up! Dad was right, Dean, I never should have tried! I should've died right there in that nursery with mom."

"Sam—" Dean started, easing forward.

"Leave Dean!"

"What!?" Dumbfounded, Dean froze. "Sammy-"

"Just go." Sam hung his head, sinking to rest on the edge of the bed, forgotten whiskey bottle clanking to the floor. "You don't deserve to even be here with me. I can't do that to you. I'm just going to screw up again, and you'll get caught in the middle of it. I'm worthless, and that's all I'll ever-"

"Shut up Sam!" Dean barked, advancing on his little brother. "Don't you _ever _let me hear you say that again, you understand me?"

Sam flinched, leaning away from Dean.

"But it's true." He whispered, voice tiny, belying the giant form of its owner.

Dean groaned, sitting down beside Sam. "Sammy, you don't know how wrong you are man. If there's one thing you aren't, it's worthless." He slung an arm around Sam's shoulders, squeezing tightly. "From the moment I first saw you, you were the one thing in my life that mattered the most." His tone turned fierce, desperately trying to convey just how much his brother meant to him. "I remember, when you were a baby, mom couldn't get you to sleep unless I was there. You'd just lay there and scream until she came and got me. As soon as she put you on my lap, you'd quiet right down. Once, a few months before Yellow Eyes showed up, there was this huge storm, and you got upset. I heard you crying down the hall and went to check on you. Dad found us in the morning, asleep in your crib. He used to say that the two of us didn't need anything else on this world but each other, and we'd be fine." Dean licked his lips, turning to his brother. "Don't do this to yourself, Sammy. Please. Now c'mon, let's get you cleaned up."

He tugged at Sam's arm, heaving him to his feet and into the small bathroom. Wetting a cloth, Dean swiped gently at Sam's sweaty face, stripping him of the whiskey sodden shirt. Leading him back into the bedroom, Dean helped his brother into a clean shirt, pushing him down into the bed.

Situating himself beside his brother, Dean flipped on the TV, playing it at a low volume.

"Go to sleep, Sammy. I'm right here." Sam slid down into the bed, resting his forehead against Dean's thigh. Dean carded a hand through Sam's hair.

Whatever the kid was feeling now would be nothing to the monstrosity of a hangover he'd have in the morning.

"That's it Sammy, just let it out." Dean soothed, grimacing as Sam wretched yet again, wedging himself in behind his weary brother, using his chest to prop him up.

Panting, Sam leaned into his brother's chest, utterly spent. Rolling his neck so he could look his brother in the eyes, Sam groaned.

Chuckling, Dean reached around Sam and flushed the toilet. "Told you you couldn't hold your liquor man. You done?"

Not trusting his mouth at the moment, Sam nodded.

"Alright Sammy, let's get you up." Sam allowed Dean to help him to his feet, gingerly making his way back to bed. He fell into bed, curling into a ball, groaning.

"Here." He cracked his eyes open, accepting the three Advil from Dean's outstretched hand, opting to swallow them dry.

"Boy, you sure did get hammered last night little brother." Throwing a blanket over Sam, Dean switched off the television, sitting down beside his brother's head. "You feeling better?"

Sam shook his head, pulling the blankets tighter and scooted closer to Dean. Rolling his eyes fondly, Dean rested a hand atop Sam's mop of hair. Sammy always did get clingy when he felt sick.

"Dean, I…"

"It's okay Sammy. I'm here."

Sam sniffed. "It's just I felt… I felt.."

"I know." Dean whispered, flipping off the lamp and easing down beside Sam.

Sam sniffed again, and Dean wrapped his arms around him. " "S' all right bro. We're gonna get through this Sammy. You and me."

Sam shifted, resting his head atop Dean's chest. Dean carded a hand slowly through Sam's hair, pulling him closer.

"Go to sleep Sammy, it'll be better when you wake up."


End file.
